


Seven Years From That

by langmaor



Category: Warui Koto Shitai
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1890672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/langmaor/pseuds/langmaor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh," says Mikado, and there is nothing Yukimura can do but bring them closer, hoping that maybe this time, it will be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Years From That

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by Warui Ouji Demo Suki, chapter six I think? When Yuki was trying to see what Towa found so perfect about Mikado. I ship! It's tragic that the first fanfic of this series is to be a crack pairing, but hey, the early bird gets the worm :P

**01.**

It's something that won't be put into words, something that will stay underneath the normal course of life, something like an undercurrent that is easy to ignore but very definitely there.

It's stolen afterschool hours, supposedly slaving over paperwork but he has to wonder, maybe those times they spent eating together could have been something more. Something better.

It's quiet glances in the middle of meetings, little gestures of concern and care that wouldn't make any sense if he tried to say them out loud. It's the sandwich purchased for him when he forgot his bento, the extra mile that Mikado walked to give him his notes when he was absent. Now he has to wonder. If he'd tried defining it, if he'd trying making it more conscious, then maybe, just maybe, they could have been something. Something more. Something different.

It's in the way Mikado always made sure to put Irie somewhere reasonably far from him, in the way he always remembered to buy his vice-president's favourite juice, in all the times Mikado took over for him when he couldn't get in the mood for the meetings, in all the times he walked in to steaming cups of coffee on a school council desk. He wonders again. In a beautiful apartment, in the midst of the city, in the center of the land of the rising sun, Yukimura Shuuji wonders, wonders and mourns, for everything that could have been and everything that was not, everything that should have been and everything that would not.

"Please forget about me," says Mikado's voice, from the corner of his apartment. He hasn't aged, still looks the age of a high schooler and he's dressed like one. The Shirahane's face is downcast, like it always has been, probably always will be, since that fateful day seven years ago.

"No," he whispers back, voice pained at the expression on the black haired boy's face, averting his eyes.

"Then please give it back to me, Yuki," Mikado's voice is pleading, begging, and Yukimura's resolve very nearly breaks as he fingers the simple beaded friendship bracelet in his pocket.

"I can't, Mikado. I can't." They've been through this, so many times that the tears won't come anymore, even looking at that desperation on Mikado's face.

**02.**

The next time it happens Mikado is straddling him. He's pushed on top of his far too empty king size bed, and Mikado's knees are on either side of his body, his face far, far too distant as Yukimura drags his face down, bringing lips together, kissing like it's all he's good for. Mikado kisses back, hints of an old fire that's far too close to burning out to rekindle now.

"Will you give it back?" Mikado's voice is like a cannonball through the air, driving Yukimura back into the deep, putrid pool of his own thoughts.

"No," Yukimura bites his lip, because it hurts to say no to Mikado, just hurts, feels wrong on a soul-deep level.

"Oh," says Mikado, and there is nothing Yukimura can do but bring them closer, hoping that maybe this time, it will be enough.

**03.**

The third time, he's at the beach, a meeting with clients that are far too chummy for his tastes. There are cliffs everywhere, and he climbs one just to make the day go by a little bit faster, to get back to his empty bed a little bit faster.

It's there he sees Mikado, already waiting at the top. The uniform is as pristine as ever, not a speck of dust on the black material even in this sandy beach.

"Will you give it back now?"

Always, always the same. So many words in their language and yet Mikado could only speak those six.

He's almost going to say yes, but he can't, again he can't. The beads feel hot and sweaty against his clammy palms, and he says no.

**04.**

This time he's visiting that fateful place of seven years ago. It's on the roof of a high-rise building, and a little poster is hung on the walls.

"Yuki... won't you please give it back to me now?"

Yukimura turns, breath catching in his throat, watching as Mikado rearranges his clothes, the bloodstains on them complicating his job. This time Yuki feels different, watching the little poster sway precariously, almost about to fly away. The flowers placed below them have already wilted away, and the poster doesn't look like it will stay stuck for very long. Mikado walks up to him and Yukimura presses their lips together, a simple kiss. After the kiss is broken he swallows, throat constricting around his words, "Okay."

A smile spreads across Mikado's face as Yukimura pulls out the bracelet from his pocket, palms sweaty again as he dropped it into Mikado's waiting arms.

"Thank you, Yuki..." he says, already moving away, and Yukimura feels a profound, intense feeling of regret, wishing he hadn't given it back to Mikado. One corner of the poster is completely free now, as the wind threatens to rip it completely off, and below cars are honking because it's a busy street.

This is it, he thinks, this is how it's going to be. I'm always going to be alone. Almost as if to prove him wrong Mikado's hand slips into his, a firm grasp that is warmer than anything Yukimura's felt in years. There are little tears, and as Yuki falls for Mikado again, falls with Mikado again, there are only the sounds of people screaming, cars honking, and the wind tugging away a poster from the wall.

 

> _SHIRAHANE MIKADO._  
>  _Passed away here, defending his partner, in the spirit of justice, seven years from today._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if you understand how much I ship this.


End file.
